Pledge
by ilarual
Summary: Jacqueline hated it. She hated it so much. Kim deserved better. She tried not to think about the fact that she wanted to be "Better" because it gave her a stomachache.


**A/N-** An anon on Tumblr sent me the prompt "they said 'speak now or forever hold your peace' so i'm speaking up" and requested JacKim, so here you go. It's stupid.

* * *

It was political. Jacqueline _knew_ it was purely political, a marriage between a human and a witch for the sake of inter-species peace. Kim, as the witch most comfortable in the human world, was the obvious choice to become their sacrificial Pocahontas in an attempt to bridge the divide. Except, as the reservation she herself had been born on attested, that hadn't worked out so well for Native Americans, and she was severely skeptical that the results would be any better for the witches.

But then again, she might be biased as hell because she was hopelessly in love with the bride.

It wasn't like Alec wasn't a good person or anything. He was a pretty interesting guy, a reasonably talented meister– not on Spartoi's level, but decent– and he did genuinely care about Kim, even if he was about as much into her as she was into him. Meaning not at all. But he was good-hearted and the perfect choice for a world-bridging marital union. His mother was a member of the French Parliament and he had political aspirations of his own, so he would make a good ambassador.

They'd probably have a happy life together. Not a loving one, but… companionable, probably. They'd probably go on team missions together, Kim wielding her and Alec wielding his partner, a demon whip Jacqueline barely knew despite having sat in class with him for years. And she'd have to sit there and watch while her meister and her husband put on a good show for the voyeuristic world eager to see whether a witch and a human could truly coexist.

Well, Jacqueline knew the answer to that question. A witch and a human could coexist just fine, but Kim didn't have to _marry_ anybody to prove that. They'd been proving it together, time after time, since they were sixteen years old.

It was a city hall ceremony, because although Mabaa and her High Chancellor had consented to this farce in the interests of true peace, they weren't willing to give ground on the subject of spirituality. No witch would be wed by a human priest, not if they had anything to say about it, so a civil servant was the agreed-upon compromise. But although the arrangement seemed humble in theory, in practice it was anything but. The preparations had been lengthy and elaborate, the guest list included everyone from witch dignitaries to human celebrities to diplomats of every stripe, and Kim had been stuffed into some dress that was the most bizarre cobbled-together blend of witch tradition and human aesthetic imaginable.

She was miserable, Jacqueline knew it because she had made her displeasure clear and loud in private, but she was going through with it because she was done running. Kim had finally found her home, found it with Spartoi and their friends, and she wouldn't jeopardize that position there for anything. And if getting married was what it took to help cement the peace treaty and make her ability to maintain her balancing act between her two worlds possible, then that was what she was going to do.

And Jacqueline hated it. She hated it so much. Kim deserved better.

She tried not to think about the fact that she wanted to be "Better" because it gave her a stomachache.

There was music playing as she stood outside the hall where the wedding would take place, something spiritually-neutral and charming. People were filing in, important people, people from both the witch and human worlds, and she felt very small in the face of all their pomp and circumstance, standing there in her plain navy dress and her hair hanging loose down her back, as if she didn't deserve to be here in the midst of this pageantry. At the same time, though, she wanted to breathe fire and rage and storm and send them all packing home because no one– _no one_– had more right than her to be here for Kim today.

But instead she just stood there, torn with indecision because she wanted to be here but _she couldn't stand to be here_. She was almost the last person left in the hallway, even though she'd been the first one there, and she couldn't make herself take even one step towards the door.

"Are you going in?"

Jacqueline looked around at the source of the light tenor and saw Kid striding towards her. He was formally dressed in his traditional shroud, but he had dispensed with the deaths-head mask; aside from the day of his enthronement, he had never worn it. Something about "a new age of peace" and "changing traditions when they become outdated" from what she'd heard. At the moment, though, she really wished he was wearing it, because she couldn't stand the sight of his face.

He stopped before her and after a beat of silence, said, "I assume your silence means no?"

She huffed out an annoyed breath. "No."

"Why not? Kim is your best friend, right?"

She nodded. "Of course she is."

Golden eyes narrowed in confusion. "Then why are you out here instead of…?"

"Because she's a lot more than just my friend," Jacqueline mumbled, and she wished she had the nerve to fling it in his face, wished she had the nerve to shout at him and shove the true ugliness of this situation he had helped create right in his stupid prettyboy face, but she couldn't for so many reasons, because he was her leader and her god, because shouting would interrupt the ceremony that was due to start any second, because she was Jacqueline Dupré and she kept quiet and followed the rules.

Kid was staring at her intently, brows drawn together in a way that either meant deep concentration or deep confusion. Or possibly both.

"You… care for her in another way?" he asked.

She nodded miserably.

"Oh."

She stared at her shoes.

"I didn't realize. Jacqueline, I'm very sorry. This must be difficult for you."

Her shoes were so ugly, plain black mary-janes like she'd worn back during their school days. They were dull and childish and who wore black with navy anyway?

"What are you planning to do?"

She shrugged. "Support her, I think."

Kid was silent, and she watched the space between their feet. After a moment he turned and stepped toward the door. She heard the clink of his ring as his hand came to rest on the metal knob, but he paused before pulling the door open.

"You know," he said calmly, "I stand by my decision, and Kim's. We need this peace to last, she more than anyone. It may be archaic, but Mabaa and her council are very insistent and we need to appease them to push forward with the treaty negotiations. Kim needs to marry a human."

He wasn't telling her anything she didn't already know.

"_But_," he added, in a carefree tone, "I don't recall anyone making any demands about _which_ human."

Jacqueline's head jerked up, eyes wide and staring, but the door was already swinging shut as the last folds of Kid's shroud whipped out of sight behind the stained wood. She stared at the closed door in terrified astonishment. Did he mean…?

But he had to. Kid liked leaving a little mystery, the illusion of letting people work things out for themselves, but he also never said anything he didn't absolutely mean.

Which, in turn, meant…

Heart pounding, feeling light-headed, she reached out to grasp the doorknob.


End file.
